Sometimes in our travels we find ourselves in the most unexpected places, so it's a pleasant surprise when those destinations stand out against the rest. This was certainly the case, when on our way to Milford Sound, steady rain (plus snow) and a road closure forced us to find refuge for the night somewhere "off-road". After consulting the
'Lonely Planet' book and the
Rankers website it was decided we'd head to an intriguing spot called '
Gunn's Camp'.
Leaving the state highway, we followed a very bumpy gravel road that took us into the Fiordland National Park. All maps and directions assured us our path led to a camping ground nestled in Hollyford Valley. I'm not sure if it was the rutted road, the fading daylight, the ominous grey skies, the denseness of the forest, or the fact that we saw no other signs of human life, I'll admit I was a little concerned about where we might find ourselves! The reviews promised a quirky, historic location, friendly management, and hot showers! But you know what? It was all that and more.
When Gunn's camp finally came into view, I was relieved to see we'd found ourselves somewhere quite special. Before us was an orderly, colourful collection of rustic old public works cabins, each with their own unique features but all of which looked cosy and inviting. Smoke spiralled gently from the manager's house, puddles on the ground were rippling with raindrops, low clouds hung tangled in the trees and everything was blanketed with a peaceful and restful atmosphere; the kind of place where no one bothers to keep time and the word modern doesn't even exist! Just past the cabins an energetic (but melodious) river could be seen and heard and to top it off, the entire setting was surrounded by snow capped mountains.
The camp had a generator for electricity, the camp common room (furnished with vintage tables and chairs) sheltered a roaring wood fire and the kitchen was fitted out with huge stainless steel benches, several gas stoves and hot water on tap. We relished the opportunity to cook dinner in a large communal space! And on the menu that night? A big eggs, bacon and mushroom fry-up of course! It was the first time I'd ever cooked toast on a funny little stand over a gas flame - may have been the best toast ever! In the shower block the water was heated with a huge wood-fuelled boiler and it was HOT (and *heavenly)! After dinner, the kids played a few rollicking games of Pictionary (we are still laughing about Harry's drawing for "funny bones") and toasted marshmallows.
Later that night, after too many marshmallows and a strong cup of herbal tea (living on the wild side, that's me) I was lulled into Dream Land by the steady drumming of rain on our campervan roof, playing in harmony with the sounds of water rushing over rocks from the river nearby.
The next day we ate a hearty breakfast (taking advantage of that real kitchen once more), took a little walk around the camp, said thankyou and farewell to our gracious hosts and then drove a little further up the road to check out
I'm so glad the road to Milford Sound was temporarily closed. It may have delayed our arrival to Milford by a day, but if it had not, we would never have found ourselves in Gunn's Camp. Everything happens for a reason!
* don't get me wrong, our campervan shower was OK. You quickly get used to showering with your elbows glued to your side. The space is something akin to a broom cupboard, and as for the water flow? Well, lets just call it a trickle (a generous trickle to be fair). Imagine how much water comes through a drinking straw - and that should just about do it, ha ha
